And Play Pretend
by define-serenity
Summary: [Sebastian/Blaine] Blaine gets cast opposite Sebastian in a play, in which they have to make out on stage every night. ONESHOT. COMPLETE.


**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's notes:** written for **rrrumbleroar**'s birthday. lines (italics) taken from _The Paris Letter_. title taken from _Alone Together_ by Fall Out Boy.

* * *

**And Play Pretend;;**

* * *

His breath turns to fog in the cold winter air as he exits the bar, leaving behind his merry band of cast mates, or rather friends, because that's what they've become these past four months. He digs his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, the cold biting at his cheeks, but he has to brave it–he doesn't own a car and the subways stopped running. Luckily home isn't too far.

"Hey." Sebastian emerges from the shadows, foggy breath accompanied by cigarette smoke, and he wonders if he's any warmer because of it. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, it's getting late." He shifts from one leg to the other to keep warm. "You sticking around?"

"I should make sure Quinn gets home in a straight line."

He nods, and lingers, having grown accustomed to Sebastian's lurking presence, like somehow he's become part of the shadow at his back. They've grown closer, intimately so, more than any of their fellow cast members still livening up the bar, and he can't believe it's over, this was their last night on that stage and now they'll all part ways. He'll keep in touch with Quinn and Tina and some of the others, and he desperately wants to stay in touch with Sebastian, but he's still none too sure that's the kind of relationship they've built.

"Listen." Sebastian takes a step forward, throwing his cigarette to the pavement, where it sizzles in the snow. "Now that this whole circus is over, I was wondering– Would you like to go out sometime?"

A breath catches in his throat. "What?" he asks once he managed to swallow, his hands warm all of a sudden, as are his cheeks.

Sebastian's eyebrows rise. "Out? On a date?"

His mouth moves around words left unspoken.

"You're allowed to say no."

"I'm sorry." He blinks when he realizes he's been staring for a good few moments, and he can't for the life of him figure out why he's hesitating. "It's just–" He shakes his head. "We spent two months making out on stage, seeing each other naked, and you're asking me out now?"

Sebastian shrugs, smiling softly. "I didn't want it to complicate things."

.

**ANTON** Sandy, I'm sorry to say I really really only want to kiss you.

**SANDY** (_sadly_) I know.

**ANTON** (_pause_) May I, do you think?

.

He goes in to read for Sandy, a young twenty-something struggling with his sexuality who decides to stay closeted after a brief affair. Rachel told him to push his boundaries and audition for Anton, Sandy's flamboyantly gay lover and friend, but he decides to play it safe.

To say that he met Sebastian at the auditions seemed too gross a generalization, because he only catches sight of him somewhere in his peripheral vision, far too nervous to focus on anything but the task at hand.

.

He doesn't get the part.

The director asks him to read for Anton instead.

"Would you be comfortable with nudity?" the stage manager asks, barely glancing up from her notes.

He purses his lips around an answer, but one doesn't immediately present itself.

At the start of the second act, Sandy and Anton climb out of bed and quarrel, after which the lovers break up, but he knew that going in. He's been on stage in his underwear before, which took some doing, but he'd come out of that run with a fresh sort of confidence he learned to wear on stage like armor. This was just the next step.

"Not a problem," he says, though he can't tell if his voice betrays him or not.

He reads a scene with an intern, start to finish, already having memorized some of the lines. When he's finished, a slow clap starts somewhere in the back of the theatre.

It's too dark to make out who it is.

.

The day he walks into rehearsals he learns he'll need more than merely armor.

An exciteful tension pervades the room, a low buzz of voices, people broken up into small groups to get to know one another. The stage manager, Tina, point him towards the lead of the show, who's talking to a beautiful blonde girl he assumes will be playing his wife; the blonde waves him over and his feet grow heavier the closer he gets. Because the boy that turns to look at him is nothing short of beautiful too; speckled green eyes, long narrow nose, thin lips, and an almost strategically placed allotment of freckles raining down his cheeks and neck.

"So you're my Anton then," the boy says, and he finds his mouth a little dryer, his palms sweaty, _his Sandy_ holding out a hand. "Sebastian Smythe."

"Blaine," he barely manages, and shakes Sebastian's hand, belatedly adding, "Anderson."

"I remember." Sebastian smiles. "I watched your audition."

A dulcet warmth spreads to all his extremities while he cracks a flustered smile, the tuneless pitter patter of his heart an all too familiar rhythm; he might be in some trouble.

"And this beautiful dame," (the blonde snorts), "Is Quinn Fabray."

Quinn smiles. "Hi."

He shakes her hand too, and glances between them. "Are you two–"

"No!" Quinn exclaims, and giggles. "God, no, that'd be– No."

"There's no need to sound so dismissive, Fabray," Sebastian says. "I'll have you know I'm quite the catch."

Quinn crosses her arms over his chest. "You're not my type."

"Is that so?" Sebastian takes a step closer to Quinn, and he takes a respectful step back, deciding that whatever established friendship exists between Quinn and Sebastian, he's best to stay out of it. There'll be more opportunities for them to get to know each other, and this isn't a discussion he's particularly interested in settling.

.

"The guy is a model, Rach," he says, aimlessly digging his chopsticks through his rice, and replays Sebastian's smile over and over again, like rewinding and fast forwarding through it might help decipher it. "He _exudes_ confidence. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You're not supposed to compete!" Rachel says, and steals one of his eggrolls. "You have to work together and create something the audience can enjoy."

"I suppose you're right," he sighs, and drops his head back against the couch cushions, groaning in discontent.

.

Their first few run-throughs are pretty standard; everyone's struggling to learn their lines and their cues, while the tech team sets up the lighting and sound effects. He and Sebastian don't have to make out yet or take off their clothes, which offers them time to get a feel for their characters and get to know each other in the process.

Much like him, Sebastian's been a struggling actor for a few years now, working part time at a small advertising agency. Quinn and Sebastian, he learns, met their first year of college and have been friends ever since–they joke around a lot, much to the director's dismay, but their chemistry both on and off stage is undeniable.

"So you two never dated?" he asks, waiting backstage with Quinn.

"Well, no, because of the whole–" She eyes him curiously, as if it's a question he should have the answer to. "Blaine, Sebastian's gay."

"But he–"

"Flirts with anything that has a pair of legs?" Quinn smiles. "Don't take it personally."

.

Rachel assures him he's making the kiss a bigger deal than it is. It's just a kiss, _a stage kiss_, one he'll be repeating four times a week for nearly two months. So what if Sebastian's gay too? So what if he's thought about those beautifully curved lips on every inch of his body, not in the least around his cock when he jerks off in the morning and all he sees are those lips and Sebastian's smile?

The director wants him and Sebastian alone that day, to run through their scenes and make sure they're as comfortable as they can possibly be, which means no prying eyes until they both know what they're doing. And it's definitely easier, he and Sebastian on stage, the director in the auditorium, Tina nearby backstage.

In their first big scene together their characters go back to Anton's place after seeing a movie. They talk, and Anton seduces Sandy, leading to a tentative kiss followed by a hot and heavy make-out session. Sebastian's an amazing actor, he effortlessly falls into the character of a confused closeted young man, even though he has to ask for his lines once or twice.

"_Don't look so disappointed_." He chuckles, folding his script carefully between his fingers. He has this scene down, it flows from one character to the other quite logically, so he's confident enough with no need to peek at his lines. "_I mean, you're gorgeous and tortured and Jewish, and terribly unsure of yourself in a cocksure sort of way. Which I adore._" He takes a step towards Sebastian. "_But I'm not going to take you. I'm not built for that_."

"_I'm not–_" Sebastian frowns, his script on the floor where it's within reach but he's not tempted to glance at it every few seconds. "_Wait, what does my being Jewish have to do with anything? And I don't think I'm cocksure, whatever that even means–_"

"_What?_" he interrupts. "_You've been coming into my restaurant, kitty cat, staring at me for a week, sitting alone at a table reading fucking Proust, no less?_"

Somewhere off stage Tina giggles.

"_Making notes in the margins with a big fucking fountain pen, which incidentally stained my nice linen table cloth_," he continues. "_Batting your eyes at me like we're at the Princeton Library._"

Sebastian smiles sheepishly, and after all the times they've practiced this scene he thinks he should be used to it, seeing Sebastian act shy and nervous, but it's so unlike the Sebastian who goes around flirting with every boy and girl that it still catches him by surprise.

"_Yeah, well, you looked happy_," Sebastian says. "_Like someone having fun. It's sort of contagious. I thought I might catch it_."

"_Well, God knows one wouldn't want that_." He takes another step closer, his heartbeat rising. Any moment now he and Sebastian will kiss for the first time and his lips tingle. "_I mean, you might die_."

He looks at Sebastian, fidgety, hands in his pockets, and allows for a brief moment of silence while he tracks as close to him as he can. Sebastian resists, until he says, "_Come here_", and they finally give into each other. His hands cup Sebastian's face and Sebastian's lips nip tentatively at his, and as their bodies settle together he's caught in a tangle of _keep it professional_ and _I wish this was real_.

Sebastian pulls back, even though he's the one who's meant to. "Are you alright?" Sebastian whispers, too quiet for anyone else but him to hear.

He blinks, bringing Sebastian's face into focus, reality slowly reasserting itself around him. "That's my line."

They both burst out laughing.

"Guys!" the director calls, but both he and Sebastian have taken a step back and clutch their stomachs, unable to control their laughter. Rachel was right, he made too big a deal out of this, after all he managed to kiss her on stage junior year without blushing. So why would this be any different? It's not like he lacks self control, he can be perfectly professional if that's what's expected of him. He can keep his eyes off the merchandise, so to speak.

Somehow they manage to get a hold of themselves, and run through the scene again.

"_Come here_," he says, and when Sebastian kisses him this time it's far easier to keep a hold of himself. This time he feels the pretend nerves run through Sebastian's body, and he pulls back.

"_Are you alright?_" he asks.

.

He makes it to the bar half an hour late, but he had to cover someone else's shift at the diner, and he wanted to shower before meeting up with the rest of the cast–suave as the all-black waiter's outfit might be, he doesn't want to be the guy who shows up smelling of french fries and steak.

The small cast all sit huddled around the same table, Sebastian and Quinn close together on the bench seating against the wall.

Sebastian's the first to see him. "Look who decided to show up."

"Sorry I'm late."

Sebastian stands up and offers him his seat. "What are you drinking?"

"Gin and tonic?"

He sits down next to Quinn and gets swept up in conversation; everyone wants to know how he feels about being naked on stage, but he still hasn't quite figured out how he's going to manage. A few moments later Sebastian returns with his drink and settles next to him, their thighs touching, and their hands brushing together every so often.

Sebastian stretches his arm out behind him, and it lies there on the headrest, the right side of Sebastian's body touching his left at intermittent intervals during the night. It's not too distracting, everyone listens to each other's stories and Artie, the art director, makes the dumbest jokes which still make everyone laugh, and they all drink too much, but he's aware of every shift in Sebastian's body, his fingers either tapping at the headrest or teasing in Quinn's hair, laughter shaking through his body, the heat of his body keeping him warm.

He knows it's not a crush, it's too soon to be a crush despite the fact that they've kissed on stage, but if he were to give it time, let his feelings take root, they could bloom into something he's not prepared to admit to yet. Sebastian's meant to be a colleague, a friend at most, and he doesn't want to do anything that might mess things up. He's worked too hard and dreamed too big to let it all fall apart over a would-be crush on a guy that might not even be interested in him.

Because, after all, Sebastian flirts with anything with a pair of legs.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Sebastian asks when they're all set to leave, and they have a rare moment to themselves.

"A little." He shrugs. "I mean, I knew what I was signing up for, but–"

"But what?" Sebastian tilts his head, eyes narrowing on him as if he tries to discern the cogs turning behind his eyes. He's not sure what he was going to say. Sebastian's _devastatingly gorgeous_, and even though he's comfortable in his own skin and takes good care of his body, _despite Rachel's advice_, he still feels like he's meant to compete.

"Look, you can trust me, okay?" Sebastian says. "This scene, it's not about us being naked. It's about a young guy freaking out because he might be in love with a man. I think there's something in there we can both relate to."

Sebastian's right, of course, no matter how confident either of them are there's bound to have been a time in their lives where both of them felt the pressure of conforming to social standards, felt that they had to act straight in order to fit in and the wrongness of their feelings for boys should have been feelings of disgust.

"I'm not going to stare," Sebastian adds. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

He frowns. "I didn't think you would."

Sebastian grins. "Quinn has pointed out to me that I've been presenting myself a certain way–"

"I kinda like how _cocksure_ you are of yourself."

"Alright, killer." Sebastian laughs. "See you tomorrow."

He catches himself thinking it should really be the other way around, there's a reason he played it safe auditioning for Sandy–he's not ashamed of who he is, nor is he confused, he's been out since high school and nothing could convince him to tiptoe back into the closet, and no one would ever consider Sebastian _flamboyant_, but he's awkward and nervous like Sandy, while Sebastian's confident in an almost cocky sort of way.

But Rachel's right about this too, he should push his boundaries, and he's never backed away from a challenge.

.

Surprisingly, being naked in front of Sebastian turns out to be easier than kissing him. As he expected, Sebastian has a gorgeous body, but he's true to his word; Sebastian doesn't stare, his eyes don't linger, and they both carry the full weight of this scene as their characters end their brief affair. It's not about them being naked, it's about creating something the audience can enjoy, can feel as heavy as they do.

He kisses Sebastian, Anton's last-ditch effort to convince Sandy that their feelings for each other are valid, and he's not even really aware that he's naked.

.

Opening night comes hurtling at him like an out-of-control train about to sweep him off the tracks and scatter him into a ten million pieces. He can't warm his fingers or toes, yet his cheeks burn, his head too hot while he mentally runs through all his scenes for the fiftieth time that day.

"Don't be nervous," a voice sounds behind him, a whiff of hot air caressing the shell of his ear, and he smiles, some of the weight lifting off his shoulders once he remembers Sebastian's in this with him, and he'd trust Sebastian with his eyes closed.

There isn't an empty seat in the house, the front rows occupied by his family, friends from high school and college, and acquaintances he'd invited on a whim because his excitement couldn't be contained. It's a small play on a small stage, but all things have small beginnings.

"My parents are here," he puffs out a breath, nervously shifting from one leg to the other. "My brother. My ex-boyfriend."

"Well, all I can say for sure is they won't see anything they haven't seen before," Sebastian offers. "Unless you had a very uncharacteristic upbringing."

He laughs, lovingly shaking his head, grateful he allowed Sebastian this power over him. Turns out he never needed any armor, Sebastian isn't the boogeyman or someone who makes him feel small–they've trusted each other with a common understanding of what their characters are going through, that somewhere, at some point in time they've both felt the same, and that's brought them closer together.

"And if that doesn't help–"

Sebastian slides his hand down into his, their fingers intertwining. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, flexing his fingers between Sebastian's, appreciating every inch of the gesture.

"We got this, killer."

.

**ANTON** Are you alright? I don't want to–

**SANDY** No, I'm not, I'm– I'm on the verge of detonating. I've wanted to do that for years. In October during the missile crisis when the whole world was about to explode I thought I'm gonna die without ever–

**ANTON** Look. Wait. (_laughs_) This is my hand. I want you to hold it. Feel it. Okay? Take your time. My hand. You want to know me. Look at me. Look. It's good to know who you're touching, and what it feels like. Last time it snowed you were one person. Now you're another.

.

The next two months go off without a hitch. Every single one of them misses a cue here or there, but none the audience notice. Quinn and Tina become his closest friends, and Sebastian–well, he becomes _something_; most of Sebastian's flirting gets directed elsewhere. They spend a lot of time together, on and off set, and even though he's never had this kind of relationship with another guy – Sam was a bro, that was different – he can't decide if his feelings for Sebastian _should_ evolve into a crush. He can trust Sebastian with his innermost thought and fears, with his body, even, and maybe that's enough.

Thing is, Sebastian's gorgeous in all the right ways, in all the right places, and when their lips touch, be it the first withholding test of a kiss or the last desperate attempt at keeping a lover close, he likes kissing Sebastian. Even if they're just pretending.

.

.

.

Sebastian shrugs, smiling softly. "I didn't want it to complicate things."

He frowns at Sebastian's curious turn of phrase. "Want what to complicate things?"

Sebastian chuckles, and dares another step closer, close enough for him to feel his breath fan over his face, his proximity heedlessly different than what he got used to. His head spins a little; Sebastian's asking him out on a date, a real date, where the two of them will have time to talk rather than socialize, be truly alone for the first time.

"My incredibly obvious-to-everyone-but-you attraction to you, Blaine," Sebastian admits easily. "I'd like to get to know you with your clothes on."

He giggles, and wonders what he'd missed, if it'd really been that obvious or if Sebastian merely thinks it was, if the others see it too, because honestly, _he hasn't_. Sebastian's been friendly, if not flirty at times, but how could he catch any signals when they made out for hundreds of people to see every night? He's seen more of Sebastian and done more with him than most people do on a first date.

"Okay."

"Yeah?" Sebastian fails to contain his excitement, which ignites a whole new buzz inside him as well.

"Yeah, I'd–" He nods. "I'd like that."

.

They go to the movies._ Unironically_.

Afterwards, Sebastian takes him to a cute bistro not too far from the theatre and they sit at a small table, their knees knocking together every so often. After a while he gives up, figuring maybe this was Sebastian's intention, so he stretches his legs out completely, interspersed with Sebastian's.

They talk over dinner and he can't remember the last time he had this much fun on a date; Sebastian's quick-witted and charming and flirts in a way he hadn't up until now. Somewhere in between the first bite he takes from his dessert and catching the playful glint in Sebastian's eyes he thinks, yes, there it is. Trouble in the shape of a boy.

He invites Sebastian up to his apartment for a glass of wine, but before he can pour a single drop Sebastian takes the stage.

"Blaine," he says, "All I want to do right now is kiss you."

And there's no pause, no hesitation, he doesn't take a step closer or test the waters first. He's not Anton and Sebastian's not Sandy, they are both exactly the people they want to be and there are four walls encasing them.

"Come here," he whispers, and Sebastian doesn't rush anything, he simply closes the distance between them and hooks a hand around his neck, touches his lips to his as he raises himself on his toes. Their lips move together like they have so many times before, but somehow it's not the same.

They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss, hands exploring slow and unscripted, and it's so much better.

It's _real_.

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**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


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